Disclaimer: This girl sadly doesn't own castle

Previously: Lanie drives Beckett and Castle to the Hamptons for some much needed making up

V

Castle was the first to move, fishing his keys out of his pocket and opening the front door. He waited until Kate clambered in behind him before going back outside and bringing in their bags. The writer watched her carefully as her eyes darted around the room, taking everything in.

He'd pictured this moment so many times, the big romantic gesture as he'd whisk her away from work for a special weekend getaway. The extensive fantasies ranging from skinny dipping in the pool to spending the entire weekend in bed but he never expected this. Castle had at least wanted there to be a 'them' or as close to a 'them' as he could get. Instead he was stuck with some crisis getaway fumbled together by his friend to be stuck with a woman who had lied and betrayed him. He wanted to make the effort to fix what she had done, to fix the relationship they had had even if it didn't progress to something more. He just didn't know if that was what he truly wanted – to fight for the woman he loved despite everything.

The writer stepped forward placing a palm gently on Kate's shoulder in an attempt to calmly get her attention, her body jerking away from his touch. A glimmer of hurt flashes across Castle's boyish features but disappearing as quickly as it came, not wanting to give her the benefit of seeing his pain.

'I'll show you where you can sleep,' Castle said, already walking towards the staircase not checking to see if Kate was following. 'I'll put you in the room next to mine as we don't know how far we can go with these things on,' raising his wrist in the air and shaking it.

Kate nodded, trailing behind the writer as they edged towards the room at the far end of the hall. It was far from what she expected if the reaction he gouged from her features was anything to go by. The room was one of the ones he had redesigned himself, everything kept simple, soft and white.

For the first time since he has bought this house it felt odd here. There was so much silence, so much pain and betrayal lingering in the air.

He watched her stride around the room, her delicate fingers touching and lingering over nothing for longer than a few seconds. The soft clatter of her heels connecting with the wooden floor as the sound reverberated around the room. The detective halted at the floor length window, her palms coming up and resting on the window pane, her forehead connecting with the glass. Castle watched in awe, the slender outline of her body evoking something deep and primal within him. He shook the thoughts out of his mind, reminding himself again and again about the lie, the cover-up, how she had played him all along.

Castle took a few stumbling steps backwards intent on putting some space between them, not caring if the bracelet went off, 'I'll, er, just go and bring up your bags.'

Night had slowly drawn in and hunger seemed to consume him. Castle shifted from under his cave of blankets, ready to face the world he had spent the good part of five hours trying to avoid. From the moment he had left Beckett's suitcases in her room he had raced to his own, locking the door and hiding under the sanction of his duvet. Castle felt like an eight year old again, hiding out from his mother's wrath when he'd done something wrong. He was being stupid but he couldn't help it. He was still boiling with anger and he'd be dammed if he didn't let himself feel something other than his feelings of dumb blind love. He deserved that at least.

Silence clung to the air and it scared him. He had never felt so alone. He had always been on the same level as Kate: finishing her sentences, finishing her theories – they were a team. At this moment in time they were anything but a team. He had no idea what Kate had done all day, whether she'd explored the house or did the cowardly thing and locked herself away too. A part of him longed to be with her, showing her every nook and cranny this house had to offer but there was no point in dwelling on it. They were locked in an impossible situation, forced to bond and reconciliate and they'd do the best they could or nothing at all. It was as simple as that.

Castle quickly changed and exited his room, the sharp smell of food flooding through the air and filling his nostrils. He let his tingling senses lead him towards the source of the aroma that was slowly enveloping him, winding up in the doorway to the kitchen.

Kate Beckett stood in front of the stove, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, the stray strands that fell from the band elegantly framing her face. She was busying herself around the kitchen, fetching a variation of vegetables from their little corners of the world, stirring the contents of the pots on the cooker. It was an unexpected sight, not that he thought she couldn't cook because obviously she had to eat when she wasn't living off take-out but it was strange – quite domestic, even. A part of him felt sick at the sight and all the thoughts that it spurned. Him. Them. Together. He wasn't sure if they could ever make it back to what they were and he hated it.

He couldn't bring himself to take the next few steps into his own kitchen because he didn't want that domestic image to be broken, to involve him but somehow she seemed to know he was there.

She glanced upwards, a small smile on her lips, 'hey Castle,' she said softly.

He braced himself – for what? He didn't know. A part of him expected her to be annoyed or angry even at being left on her own in a place she'd never been before but she seemed to take it in her stride. Same old Katherine Beckett. Castle wasn't sure whether that thought particularly pleased him or aggravated him more.

Castle stepped forward taking a seat on a stool by the island, finding his voice and murmuring his hellos.

'I hope you don't mind. I, er –' Kate stammered out, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. 'I started to make dinner while you were, urm, sleeping? I didn't want to disturb you.'

'It's fine, Beckett. Wouldn't want your thin frame to rot away now, would we?' said Castle, who regretted his words the instant they slipped out of his mouth. He was being petty and he knew it. Any little jibe he could conjure up, he wanted to voice just to see the hurt in her eyes and he hated himself for it but the desire to cause her pain pierced him.

A dark look crossed over the detectives' face, her lips pursed but she said nothing. He wanted her to say something – anything. The writer wanted nothing more than for her to show some feeling but silence was their only friend. Kate kept herself occupied around the kitchen with only Castle's stares to keep her company.

He couldn't stop the surprise from registering on his face at her next request, 'Is it alright if I use your house phone? It's just that I'm not getting any reception on my cell up here.'

'Sure Beckett, there's one in the living room. We're stuck here for the next two weeks so you may as well make yourself at home.'

Again, she gave nothing away. Her mask held firmly in place when the words: 'thanks… Rick,' tumbled all but awkwardly from her lips, but something looked off – she looked preoccupied but he let it go. Kate would come and talk to him when she was ready. The irony of the thought made him chuckle silently to himself. Talk? Yeah right. Secrecy and lies, that's all they had at the end of the day but he wanted to know. He knew it was wrong but he wanted to know.

He watched her exit the kitchen and head towards the living room, he waited a few moments before he found another of his numerous house phones hidden away in the kitchen and pressed the call button waiting for the conversation to begin – ah, the brilliance of modern technology.

The dial tone rung out before a familiar voice crept through the other end, 'Esposito.'

'Hey, Javi,' said Kate and it was as if he were sitting next to her, the faint sigh of relief like music to his ears. He should be the one she was talking to.

'Beckett, hey, how are ya?'

'Holding up. How's Kevin?' and then it made sense to him. It struck him at how he was so quickly able to get warped up in his own twisted feelings and completely forget that one of his best friends was currently in hospital being treated for a gunshot wound. And then there was Kate still hoarding that guilt he was sure she wouldn't get over any time too soon.

'He's doing good, real good,' said Esposito. 'He was awake for a bit earlier.'

'I should be there, Javi! He took that bullet for me. I should be sitting by his bedside asking to do his paperwork for the next century. Blindly hoping that he doesn't hate me though it's the least I deserve.'

'Kate,' Esposito shouted through her babble. 'Shut up!'

'I-'

Castle shifted from his spot by the island to the doorway, making out the outline of the detective currently seated in his living room. A shadow amongst the darkness, hunched over herself, her head resting in her hands. She looked so rigid and no matter how much he hated her right this very moment he felt so much pain. For her; for what she's going through; for everything that has been thrust in her direction. But Kate was a pillar of strength with each event that threatened to knock her back down into that rabbit hole of pain and heartache and it made him love her even more. She was extraordinary and he was a walking contradiction.

'He knows where you are and he agreed with me in thinking good riddens,' said Esposito.

'Oh and that suddenly makes everything okay?'

Castle flinched at the venom in her voice.

'He just wants you to be happy. He wants you to heal your wounds and get your head out the ground long enough to look around.'

'YES! Thank you,' Castle whispered in earnest before realising his mistake. He whipped away from the door, holding his breath with every ounce of his being hoping that Kate never heard or saw him. He didn't have to worry though – of course he didn't – both Esposito and Beckett continued their battle as if a grenade hadn't been thrown directly into the middle.

'And what happens the next time someone's got a gun aimed at me and tries to take a shot? What do I do? Look around at whose next in line to take that bullet for me?'

'Kate-'

'No, Javi. You all act like it's okay now but just think about the next time when I flinch at the sight of a gun in my face.'

Castle sucked in a breath.

'It's going to take time,' said Esposito.

'Don't give me that time crap, Espo. Next time we may not get so lucky. Next time that person may not wake up'

'It's just a hunk of steel, Beckett. That's all it is. There's nothing mystical about it. It's the person holding that gun that makes the decision to kill. He isn't some almighty god that can't be stopped.'

Kate's silence was deafening. Castle's view of her silhouette was shaking and he was certain that she was very close to tears and trying her darn hardest to keep it at bay.

'You can get through this, Beckett. I know you. You're like a sister to me and one of the strongest people I know. You can conquer anything.'

'I don't think I can,' said Kate.

Castle resisted the urge to burst into the room and shake some sense into her. Shoving everything he felt aside, if there was one thing he knew it was that Kate Beckett was one of the strongest people he knew.

Before he had a chance to do anything, the line was dead and Kate was gone.

Castle drifted back to the kitchen with the phone still cradled to his ear as if the monotonous ring tone could give him all the answers he needed. He debated whether or not to call his mother because he wasn't sure about anything anymore. Nothing made sense. He was a grown man and still seeking out his mother for advice. Castle wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry.

He did the only thing he thought he could and that was finishing the meal Beckett had begun making. The writer faffed around the kitchen knocking things over, burning himself in the same place time and time again, not at all the elegant cook he liked to think he was. By the time he had finished cooking, sweat coated him like armour and painful pink blisters marked his fingers.

Dishing the food onto two plates without incident he grabbed a tray, some cutlery and Beckett's meal before heading in the direction of her room.

Castle's stood outside Beckett's door with his ear pressed against the wood, listening for any little sound to alert him to her presence but he got nothing. Tentatively, he pushed open the door, streams of light bouncing through the gap into the gaping darkness. His eyes fell on form lying on the bed, her back to him, the steady rise and fall of her chest so unlike the rapid beat of his heart. If Kate was awake she didn't make any move to let him know so.

He pushed himself forward, placing the plate of food he was holding onto her bedside table. A part of him told him to turn around and leave but he was entranced with the sight of her. Leaning over her ever so slightly in what could only be described as being super creepy, he prayed to the writer gods that she didn't wake up and catch him. She looked so peaceful in sleep, the worry lines that he would sometimes see entrenched on her forehead during a tough case where smoothed out, her hair fanned out over the pillow case.

Castle bent forward, pressing his lips to her temple, 'goodnight, Kate.'

He was a walking contradiction.

A/N: You can all kill me seeing as you've had to wait so long for this. I don't like how I've written this chapter but I just couldn't take re-writing it anymore. I'll try to get the next chapter out asap and I'm meeting JK Rowling again on the 8th. Brb hyperventilating. There'll be pictures on instagram so feel free to follow (': (I'm whatthefawkes93).

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